


Stronger

by thyla23



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thyla23/pseuds/thyla23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Reichenbach, how John adjusts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stronger

Everyone had expected him to crumble and drop to his knees, to drown in his tears, but that never happened. Sure, he cried - it was only human to - but he never had a complete breakdown. It wasn't in his nature to break down because of a death, no matter how close, because he was a soldier.

As an army doctor he'd witnessed too many deaths, some preventable and others down right gory; he's seen countless friends die in front of him.

Sherlock. Sherlock is - no, was - different. He let Sherlock in, ignored his _many_ faults, became attached to him, constantly thought about him - lusted after him - and that made it difficult.

It was difficult - no, impossible - to quit Sherlock, it was like trying to quit heroin. He was suffering withdrawal symptoms; he needed a hit, something he could never have. 

Baker Street, more specifically 221B Baker Street, was a reminder and a temptation. It was like a constant itch, reminding him that he could never get what he needed, what he craved. He would always be seeking that 'one last hit' if he stayed there, so he moved out. It had been painful, but he knew that he had to move if he stood a chance of having a normal, albeit, a boring life.

Conveniently, he had found a small practice, in a small village, that required a doctor and the pay was relatively decent. It was far from London, far from home, a place untainted by Sherlock. 

Life had bumbled by for 3 years, 2 months and 5 days, each day had been as monotonous as the last. The only thing that he enjoyed was being  able to date without being interrupted or having them scared off. He had even formed a steady relationship, proposed and married her. It was life but it was duller and definitely not exciting, but he couldn't expect anything else. 

He knew he couldn't expect his current run of 'happiness' to last, he was happy to a certain extent, until Mary cheated on him, several times - he wasn't stupid. He had tried to make the marriage work, but when he confronted her she blamed her infidelity on his; she had screamed at him that he was cheating on her, with a ghost, Sherlock's ghost.

Even after that, he had continued his monotonous life, alone; but he preferred it that way, at least he didn't have anyone to compare to Sherlock, not that anyone ever could. He thought life would continue that way, that was until he was met by an expensive black car on his walk to work. 

Really, he should have known it was Mycroft's doing.

\---

When he got into the car he saw 'Anthea' - or whatever she was called - and asked her "Why does Mycroft need me?"

She turned to him, smiling, "You'll see."

"I'd better-" 

He was cut off by Anthea "Ring work? It's already been dealt with."

"Right." he turned his head and watched the scenery of the country whizz by.

Unsurprisingly, when they had reached the outskirts of London, the car had taken them to an abandoned warehouse. 

He had tried to run through what Mycroft might need from him, but failed. Mycroft could get anything he needed without having to involve him. Unless. Unless it was to do with Sherlock.

He slid out of the car, and approached the figure, in the distance, standing with their back turned to him. It wasn't Mycroft, it wasn't his body shapem, too skinny, not unlike Sherlock. He couldn't tell who it was.

"Well, I'm here..." he paused, unsure of what to say "I don't know why..."

The figure turned around, he stumbled. Bile rose up. He felt ill all of a sudden.

It was Sherlock. In front of him. Not dead. Alive. He had to get out of here. He turned to run. A voice stopped him, Mycroft stepped out of the shadows.

"How very nice that you could be here with us Doctor Watson." he stopped, the started again "I know you have just arrived, but I must leave, I have urgent business to attend to, and my brother has a lot to fill you in on." then Mycroft walked away, swinging his ever present umbrella.

He just stood there. Looking at Sherlock. He was in shock. He felt the need to sit down, check Sherlock over, punch Sherlock, kiss him, he just didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry, John."

-  
 They'd taken a black cab -together- into London centre. Stopped at the first decent cafe they could find. 

Once seated, he demanded that Sherlock better explain before he walked out of here.

Sherlock looked at him, properly looked at him and said "I had to. You, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade were in grave danger if I didn't die. I faked my death to save you all."

"I saw your corpse on the street. I saw the pool of blood. Can you even comprehend how I felt?"

"I can't. I'm sorry." For once, Sherlock truly looked apologetic.

John ran his hands through his hair. "I've missed you."

"I know."

John smiled weakly "Of course you do. Mycroft?"

"Naturally."

"Why did you take so long to return?"

"I had to go after Moriarty's people, well his key people. Nobody was safe until I had." 

"Right."

He still felt sick. It was too much of a shock, but pure relief was flooding into his system, he couldn't help smiling.

"I missed you, too."

Sherlock reached for his hand, John never pulled his back. 

Confusion filtered over John's features.

"It pained me to leave. I missed you dreadfully, but I couldn't return. I couldn't let you live in danger."

"Sherlock, we lived in danger, constantly."

"Yes, but it wasn't the same."

"Ok.So-"

"Where do we go from here?"

"I suppose."

"Well I can tell you want to return to the thrill of the chase, helping me solve cases."

"Yeh, I do. But Sherlock, I have a life-"

Sherlock looked sheepish "Mycroft has taken care of that."

"Let me guess, I've been replaced at work and someone is currently packing up my things to be moved back to 221B?"

"That would be correct."

"What would have happened if I had said no?"

"You simply wouldn't have said no."

"And to think I've missed this!" 

They got up to leave, Sherlock turned to John "What is it that you wouldn't tell your therapist?"

"There was lots I wouldn't, you obviously know she asked me what I wanted to say to you. "

"Which was?"

"You've already deduced."

"Of course I have, I would like to hear it though."

"I love you, you pompous fool."

Sherlock smiled, gently tugging John towards him, pulling him in for a hug - whispering in his ear "I feel the same."

**Author's Note:**

> First Sherlock fic. Unbetaed.Brit picked


End file.
